promise – The Light is On

Firstborn

Sweet on the wind flies song and whisper...

Ink in the deepest veins, coursing and flooding out to the plains...

This is paradise inside gnashing fangs...

Rain falls soundless on withered fields...

A slow dive through fading light reveals what always waited at the edges...

Those dead gods who lose their voice in the echoes of unspeaking solitude...

What once flowed as bacchanal wine, soaking into soil where seeds waited to sprout has spread to the edge of desert and evaporated...

And it came to pass that shadows fell, and the people did bow before the darkness...

I never saw what waited in the shadows until the sun set on a city burning and dusk became a veil over the world...